Free Mortlock by Jon Mayhew Page A

doing?’ Josie asked, frowning. Alfie looked feverish, his forehead glistening with sweat, but his shivering had subsided.
    ‘Raisin’ the dead.’ Alfie gave a snigger that turned into a wracking cough. ‘Did you see? Her arm lifted.’
    ‘If this is another one of your ridiculous pranks . . .’
    ‘No!’ Alfie said. ‘No, it’s not a trick. I can do it.’
    ‘But how . . . why?’ Josie felt certain now that this was no joke. Alfie looked spent, exhausted and terrified by what he’d done.
    ‘I don’t know.’ He climbed to his feet and dropped into a chair. ‘It’s a curse . . . somethin’ that just happens. Always has but, as I get older, it happens more often.’
    ‘That toad in the shop this afternoon.’ Josie squirmed, remembering the desiccated fragment that Alfie had been jabbing with his finger. ‘It moved.’
    ‘I know.’ Alfie nodded. ‘That toad was a bit dried up, like – only his leg would move. There just needs to be a scrap of somethin’ to bring it back, skin or bone, y’know. Small things are easy but a whole cadaver takes some effort.’
    ‘It’s horrible.’ Josie stared at her brother.
    ‘I don’t do it for laughs.’ Alfie frowned back. ‘I’m only tryin’ to understand it. I just want to know why it happens and if . . . if I can control it.’
    ‘Control it?’ she repeated. Her heart was pounding.
    ‘Sometimes, when I’m walkin’ past a body, I can feel it drawin’ on me, pullin’ the strength from me. It’ll start to twitch or groan.’ Alfie’s face was deathly pale. ‘I tried tellin’ Wiggins about it but he’s never noticed. Blind as a bat that one. He just says it’s all gases and muscle tension. But I know different. It’s ’orrible and I don’t know why it happens. I thought if I could learn more about it, maybe I could stop it happenin’.’
    ‘That’s terrible.’ Josie laid a hand on his shoulder. Here in this dingy back room, Alfie looked small and pathetic.
    ‘I don’t need no pity,’ Alfie spat, jerking his shoulder away. ‘Life’s hard but death can be worse from what I’ve seen.’
    ‘I only meant it must be awful to have that happening all the time,’ Josie snapped back. ‘I’ve got enough to worry about without wasting pity on you .’
    ‘Yeah, well, I can look after meself,’ Alfie murmured, staring at the floor. There was an awkward silence and then Alfie coughed. ‘Look, I’m sorry I was rotten to you this morning. There was no call for it.’
    ‘That’s all right.’ Josie gave a tight smile. ‘I expect it was as much of a shock for you as it was for me. I’m sorry I threw that bottle at you. Did it hurt? Must have given you quite a bruise.’ Josie frowned and stared at his forehead where the bottle had struck him. She would have expected a dark bruise to be blooming there, but it was clear and pale as if it had never been touched.
    ‘It did.’ Alfie gave her a hard stare and rubbed his head. ‘Black as Wiggins’s hat it was . . . but I heal quick.’
    ‘In an afternoon?’ Josie was surprised.
    ‘I always ’ave, don’t you?’ Alfie asked.
    ‘I don’t know,’ Josie said. She’d never really thought about it. She’d had falls when she tumbled across the stage, she’d nicked herself on knives, pinched her fingers in box lids and ropes . . . but there had never been any lasting marks. Some of the acrobats and contortionists she saw backstage bore horrible bruises and scars.
    ‘I had a fight with Edgy Taylor and we split each other’s lips,’ Alfie said, drawing a knuckle across his mouth as if he could still feel it. ‘Mine was fine in a day; he looked like a codfish for a week! We laughed about it later.’
    Josie gave a short laugh, and then felt her frown return. She’d never had a fight like that. She didn’t have any friends to speak of – not ones her own age. The folk at the Erato were nice to her, but they were all much older.
    ‘It’s very strange,’ Josie mumbled, shaking her